A Dangerous Game
by WickedJellicle
Summary: Demeter's never known anything but a quiet life. So when she is abducted and abused by two ambitious ferrets, it is beyond her to understand. What makes her special? Then the master criminal of Animalia, a cat named Macavity, proposes a more unusual game: Demeter can buy back her freedom working for him, and he will give her the answers she seeks.
1. Capture the Flag

Capture the Flag

The Wood, one of the smaller country estates on the Isle of Britta, belonged to the Honorable Deuteronomy, a large gray tomcat who was distantly related to the Dowager Queen Cassandra and was a head adviser to her son, King Matthew. However, he did not actually live there. Instead, he invested in cottages and rented them out to lesser Animalia, and kept his family in the big house at the center of the estate.

His wife was Lucy Greencloak, a human young enough to be his daughter. Their friends at the London court knew that there was no love between them, only respect. But their young daughters, sheltered as they were, had never found anything strange about it. As far as they were concerned, all fathers must live far away in the city, and send their mothers letters with money in them, and add in at the end a _PS: Give my love to the children._ Most of the other animals that lived in the Wood were either bachelors or widows, so they considered themselves very rich and fortunate to have a father, even if they hadn't seen him in ten years.

The younger daughter, Bombalurina, was by age eleven a beauty, her tall but delicate body covered with soft red fur. No one knew quite how she had gotten the fur, as Old Deuteronomy was a dark gray tabby, but her green eyes, round face, ear for music and sweet temper left no doubt that she was her father's daughter.

The elder daughter, Demeter, whose fur was simply black, was something of a mystery to the people of the Wood, although they all liked and were kind to her. She was, in fact, a mystery to herself as well, although she didn't know it yet.

"Mama," she meowed, lying in her mother's lap shortly before her fifteenth birthday, "everyone says Bombalurina has Father's eyes and your hair, but what do I have?"

"You're mostly like me," Lucy answered slowly, stroking Demeter's extra hair, which fell away from her head, long and dark and thick. "You have my hair, and my eyes—gray with long, beautiful lashes like my father's…the boys used to tease him about them—and my hands and feet." Demeter groaned—she didn't like being reminded of her soft human feet, or that unlike the average cat, she walked on two legs. "And you have my singing voice, and my quick wit."

"What about Father?" Demeter asked. "What do I have of his?"

Lucy was quiet for what felt like a very long time to Demeter's impatient ears. "Why, you have his big ears, and his fur, and his tail, same as Bombalurina has. Don't you know that?"

Demeter thought vaguely that there was something wrong with this statement, but she was too young, and too innocent, and just then too happy to investigate further.

Who is to blame? Lucy was trying to protect her daughter. Demeter did not understand why the question was so hard for her mother to answer, but she respected it and let it be. It wasn't anyone's fault, but nonetheless it was both of their biggest mistake.

Not two months later, they came for her.

"How can we be sure she is the one?" Cernunnos whispered. "We've never seen any of them, and neither has the boss."

"We don't need to see them," Rhiannon answered, raising her nose to sniff the air. "Even you, brother, were reciting the legend of Lucy Greencloak in your sleep by the time you were weaned. This is the Wood, and there are only two half-cats in the Wood. And one of them is only a kitten. We want the other."

Cernunnos nodded. He was the brute strength in the operation—he had been able to carry his sister on his back by the time he was four. But she was undoubtedly the brains.

"Let me be clear," she hissed in his ear. "You walk, I talk."

And then they were moving, thin bodies weaving through the trees, sharp teeth bared, preparing to corner the cat who stood, unafraid, picking apart a flower and humming a song.

Rhiannon had never had such easy prey.


	2. Crack the Whip

Crack the Whip

The Wood had always been safe. That was why Lucy had taken her children to live there after Bombalurina was born. That was why she had no qualms about letting Demeter wander around on her own. That was why she didn't really worry until a good hour after sundown, and why it was only after she had gone round to the cottages and returned home without any sign of her daughter that she actually panicked.

Helpless and terrified, she wrote to her husband immediately, begging him to come. She knew that if anyone could find her lost daughter, it was Deuteronomy.

But although he came as soon as he got the letter, and immediately got to work searching, by the time it was all organized two weeks had passed. By this time it was mid-September, and Demeter was far below the ground, not dead but wishing she was.

Cernunnos had been required only for the task of getting Demeter quickly and quietly to the den, and then was sent out to keep watch. Inside, Rhiannon did the actual dirty work.

She began gently, or so she thought, talking, telling the young half-cat stories, poking her in an attempt to get her to laugh. If the prisoner were willing, the task would not be half so hard.

But Demeter was not like the others. She did not laugh at any of the stories or the jokes, she only sat with a blank expression on her face. She sat still, hardly seeming to feel Rhiannon's touch.

But this was only a mask. In fact, Demeter had never been truly scared in her life, but now she was terrified. The never ending voice of the ferret in her ear made her want to scream, but she clamped her lips shut. The sharp, bony claws sent shivers down her spine, and not in a good way.

Meanwhile her mind was whirling. What on earth did these strange animals want from her? Where were they? Who were they?

Rhiannon finished another tale of her own glory and said, "I suppose you may as well know right away that we think you can be a valuable part of our group."

"Do you?" It was the first thing Demeter had said since she had arrived, and it was not spoken in the most encouraging tone.

"A girl like you must be very helpful," Rhiannon hissed.

Demeter laughed now, but it was a hard, bitter laugh. "Helpful like the girl who stood behind you while you battled six human-lupine hybrids singlehanded? I think I've had better offers."

Rhiannon's brown eyes took on an expression of hurt. Demeter gritted her teeth. Mimicking her kidnapper's falsetto whine, she hissed, "I suppose you may as well know right away that I think you are a bitch and the last thing I want is to be of any use to you. And cut the victim act. I'm the one who's trapped here, remember?"

Rhiannon got to her feet. "Very well," she said silkily. "You'll feel differently soon enough."

Demeter narrowed her eyes. "Will I?"

"You see, my brother is not the strongest ferret in Animalia for nothing. He knows how to apply force. I wouldn't be surprised if you beg for mercy by tonight."

Demeter didn't answer. She had already gone back to the growing dark place inside her, a place where new emotions she had never felt before were growing. Not only fear, but hate. And as Cernunnos appeared holding a long, black whip, she made herself a promise: she would rather die than surrender to that shit.

Demeter had long since lost track of the days, each one only more agony, but she knew the instant Rhiannon entered with some strange stuff on her whiskers and something even stranger between her hind legs that it was Masquerade Night. It was amazing to recall that there was such a thing. The Wood seemed so long ago and far away. Had she ever really been that happy child? Maybe she had just always been here, in this little room with no door or window, aging a year with each day.

"Everyone else is in disguise tonight," Rhiannon greeted her. "We thought you should be too."

Demeter closed her eyes as Cernunnos approached her. She squeezed her hands into fists, the long nails cutting into her palms, as he cut her hair, leaving the bare minimum on her head. She knew without facing the mirror that she had been made into as exact and as lowly a copy of Rhiannon as possible.

Then he brought forth the whip. The agony was unbearable, not to her body but to her soul. Not having claws, she had no power to kill herself, and they would not kill her, for then they would not be able to torture her. She knew that they _would_ beat her until she broke down.

But although she was quickly brought to tears, when Rhiannon leaned forward to make her offer once again, she spat out "Fuck you".

Instantly she knew it was the wrong thing to say. The thing between her captor's legs was suddenly much bigger and scarier as Rhiannon grinned and taunted, "I thought you'd never ask."


	3. Seven Minutes in Heaven

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Demeter was running. It was a pure miracle that she had been able to knock Rhiannon out and run while Cernunnos was distracted. She didn't know where she'd found the energy. She had no idea how she was still running. She had been eating and sleeping only when forced to for months, and her body was covered with scars, and the space between her legs bleeding even though she had gotten her period two weeks prior. But she was running because she had to. If she didn't she would die.

She smacked into a brown bear and fell to the ground. She struggled to regain her footing before it clicked in her brain.

' If she had run into a bear, that meant she was out of the ferret territory. She was safe.

Her mouth fell open and a long, agonized scream ripped out of her body. It took her several seconds before she even realized she was screaming, but she still couldn't stop. Her body was no longer in any condition to move. She just lay there and screamed until her throat closed up. Her mouth abruptly shut, and oh she wished she could cry. But she couldn't. The pain in her chest, the fear, had no release.

She didn't realize that the bear was still there until a soft paw brushed her arm.

"What happened to you?" the bear asked.

Demeter shook her head. The animal speaking to her was young and had a sweet smell and a kind voice, but she couldn't put into words what she'd been through, and she didn't completely trust that anyone would care.

"Can you sit up?" the bear asked. "I know someone who can help you, but I don't want to leave you here."

Demeter clenched her teeth, reached up, and took hold of the bear's fur as best she could. It took an unbearably long time, but eventually she managed to form some resemblance of a seated posture. At least her head wasn't in the dirt.

"I'm Jemima Carter," the bear said. "Who are you?"

Demeter bit her lip. It wouldn't take much to draw blood. "You can just call me Dem," she answered. If the ferrets got hold of Jemima, she wanted her to be able to say that she didn't know about any Demeter Greencloak.

Jemima shrugged. "All right. Can you hold onto me?"

"I can walk," Demeter answered, taking a deep breath. Kind as the bear was, she couldn't afford to be dependent on anyone. "Just take it slow and keep your claws out."

One step at a time. Demeter shivered at a sudden loud sound—a sort of roar-wail—overhead. "What the hell is that?" she asked as the sound began to die away.

"It's a train coming into London," Jemima answered.

"London?" That was where her father lived. She had been unconscious for most of her trip to the ferrets' den, but she couldn't connect this dirty underground place with the glamorous city at the heart of Animalia.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

Thankfully, Jemima didn't question her ignorance. "This is the ghetto," she answered, "home to thieves, rapists and murderers."

"You don't seem like any of those," Demeter protested.

"Yes, well, it's also home to the dirty poor. And drug dealers…and their children." Jemima laughed, a harsh, bitter laugh. "That's where I come in."

Demeter wasn't sure if that was an opening for a conversation or a closing, but her mind was too exhausted to ask any more questions.

"Here we are," Jemima said, stopping. "I don't know whether your nose works like a human's or a cat's, but in case it's a human's I'll tell you that that scent marker means that this is the beginning of Macavity Plato's territory."

"Who is this Macavity Plato?" Demeter asked. There was a bitterness in the bear's voice as she said the name.

"The Most Wanted Cat in all of Animalia," Jemima answered. "There's a price on his head that could keep my family for the next three generations. Unfortunately, if I turn him in he'll turn me right back in, and he's so smooth _he'll_ walk free. Not at the top of my recommended company list, but if there's one thing that can be said for him it's that he won't turn his back on a lost kitten. I can't go on his territory freely, but you can. Don't talk to anyone who isn't a cat, and the first cat you see ask for directions to the Hidden Paw."

Demeter's tongue felt frozen to her mouth with all this information. She closed her eyes, counted very slowly to ten, and then opened them.

"Thank you," she meowed. There was more she wanted to say, but she couldn't get it out.

Instead, she started walking.


	4. Tag, You're It

Tag, You're It

Hey, pretty kitten."

Demeter's whole body tensed, but she didn't dare look round for fear of drawing unnecessary attention.

Where was she? It wasn't like she'd ever met any grown tomcats, but still that voice didn't sound anything like a cat's. She could have sworn she was still in Macavity Plato's territory, but how could she really know? She had never been here before. She could have made a wrong turn at any point.

In fact, the voice did not belong to a cat, but to a monkey by the old name of Wickersham, one of an unfortunate few on Macavity Plato's hit list as well as King Matthew's. Unlike Rhiannon, he was not particularly ambitious, nor did he necessarily take any pleasure in causing harm to others, but like everyone in the ghetto, he was a survivor, fighting to stay alive from day to day, and an attractive hostage might give him some leverage.

"Little Will," he called to his accomplice. "Come over here."

Will, a rather ugly, blue-lipped thing, immediately did so, grinning at the prospect of mischief.

"Well, I'll be," he said. "Rare prize, isn't that?"

Wickersham smiled, a bitter smile.

"Move fast," he ordered. "Gotta be someone looking for her, pretty little thing like that. We might have a solstice this year after all."

Will chuckled at the idea. It was optimistic to say the least, but pretending to have a future was often the best the thieves, rapists, murderers, drug dealers and dirty poor could do. You never knew, right?

How could this be happening again? Another small, dark room in the middle of nowhere, and this room was stifling with heat. Demeter sat there, burning up, fighting for every breath.

On the bright side, at least here there were no whips, no dildos, no ferrets. Wickersham never came to her, though she froze every time the door opened. But it was always just little Will, bringing meals and taking them away. They weren't very good, but Demeter took what she could get.

"They say it's a new year," he told her one morning—not that she would have known what it was if he hadn't told her. "King Matthew is holding his annual composition contest."

"King Matthew composes?" Demeter hadn't known that. She hadn't really known anything about him, or cared to, but she was learning that any information she got could be put to use.

Over the winter, Will told her many, many seemingly useless facts that she stored away. He was very young and rather stupid, but with all the time he spent with Wickersham, he picked up on plenty that he would later recite to her in one long stream-of-consciousness monologue. It was sometimes difficult for her to sit quietly while he talked and talked, hardly seeming to hear anything she said, reminding her of Rhiannon. But she would clench her fists and hold fast to the hope that one day soon Wickersham would leave her with only Will on guard, and if Will had come to like her enough by then she might be able to persuade him to let her go.

However, before that day came, Wickersham's old enemy, Macavity the Mystery Cat himself, showed up on his doorstep.

Needless to say, after that the game changed.


	5. War

War

The first time Demeter saw Macavity Plato would more accurately be called the first time she heard him, since when the door opened without Will's warning—"Close your eyes, light coming through!"—she fell backwards covering her eyes.

"Well, for a half human she's not bad looking," an authoritative voice meowed. "And if she's who I think she is, she's far more valuable than you idiots could have realized. But she certainly got her fair share of human clumsiness."

"I have ears, you know," Demeter protested, blinking rapidly against her hands. "They may not be _quite_ as big as yours, but they hear just as well!"

She held her breath, expecting to get thrown across the room, but instead she was rewarded with a laugh.

"And a hot mouth, too—a true Greencloak," he purred.

Said mouth began to burn and tingle in earnest. Demeter licked her lips, but it didn't help. Other than Will's childish attentions and Rhiannon's lecherous ones, which didn't really count, no one had ever flirted with her, and she was hardly sure that she knew what it was, but…something about this felt new and different, and though she knew better than to trust this cat…at least he _was_ a cat. Their DNA was this close to being identical. That had to count for something, didn't it?

"So," he was saying. "How much for her?"

"What?" Wickersham nearly choked with astonishment. "You'd actually _pay_ me?"

"I told you, she's valuable."

Demeter sucked in her breath. Was she about to find out why she was in the ghetto in the first place?

"Here." She slowly pulled down her hands, and for the first time clearly saw the tall red cat carelessly shuffling a deck of cards. "We'll play for her. Winner takes all—girl and money."

Wickersham spat, which Demeter didn't think was an agreement, but the tom took it as such.

Then the door closed, and Demeter actually fell into the most restful sleep—albeit on hard floor—that she had had all winter.

And then the cat was pulling her to her feet. "Come quickly," he meowed, and then she was following him down many stairs and gulping in the putrid but cold air as fast as she could.

"Where are we going?" she asked when she got her breath back.

"The Hidden Paw," the cat answered.

The Hidden Paw. Was she safe?

"Are you Macavity Plato?" she asked, feeling stupid but not knowing how else to ask.

The cat nodded. "And you're Demeter Elena Greencloak, Lucy Greencloak's fifteen-year-old daughter, who's been missing for the past eight months."

Demeter gasped. How on earth could he know so much?

"Oh, yes, I know all about you—not that everyone doesn't, but I know even a little bit more. Give me a few minutes alone with you and I'll be telling you back all your secrets."

Demeter felt suddenly dizzy. "I don't understand."

For the first time, she saw Macavity look at her properly. His eyes were a very dark amber.

"How long since you've slept a whole night?" he asked.

"I…can't even remember." Not since the night before Rhiannon took her, she supposed, suddenly feeling exhausted and very vulnerable. How many more times would she have to relive that night before the ferret finally left her thoughts and dreams alone? On the occasion she had gotten comfortable in the monkey house, she had always woken crying, her whole body in such agony that she wished she was dead, just like it had been when she was really with the ferrets.

"First thing, then," he meowed, stopping and kicking at a creaky, weathered door, "go inside, find a bed and sleep until you can't sleep anymore. When you wake up, we'll talk."


End file.
